[junjou romantica] akihiko/hiroki
Fandom: Junjou Romantica
Pairing: Usami Akihiko/Kamijou Hiroki
Prompt: Table 6, Boiling Point
It’s the summer, and the summer means that it’s hot, and sometimes maybe a little unbearable. It’s the sort of hot were it’s simply humid, and dry, and it makes you sticky with sweat and too lazy to move. Just lay ing the grass all day and watch the clouds pass overhead, the sun filtering through the leaves of looming trees and freckling the soft ground. The air is stagnant, and unsettling. Winter is much better. With the cold, and the snow, and there’s no way to be too hot or cold, because you can just build up or take off layers of clothes depending. But in the summer, even if you’re in a tank top and shorts, sandals off to the side because your feet are too hot, laying flat and spread, because if you don’t your skin starts to stick together uncomfortably. But that’s when he sits down next to you, against that big tree, and he’s holding his notebook and pencil, looking at you. You drag your head upwards, grass irritating your scalp, and you glare at him. Glare until his eyes show a tiny bit of emotion and ask why you’re looking at him.
Why? It’s an echo in your mind. It might be because of the little attraction you’ve always had on the silver-haired boy, over the years and years of coming to this one spot and doing absolutely nothing but homework and watching him write and getting to read it all later. Any other day, that would probably be the case, but today, on this hot summer afternoon that you would kill if it were to be manifested into a person, it was because of what he’s wearing. The same goddamn thing he always wears, but just a little less. A coat, and shorts, and tennis shoes. You’re glaring and wondering if he’s an alien who can stand all this heat, or is just cold all the time but owns no actual pants that are for casual wear. (you imagine, with how rich he is, having a suit or something)
“What are you wearing?” It slips from your mouth with a lot more sarcasm than you meant it to, but that’s a good thing, because he deserves it. What with wearing something like that, he should be punched or something. How did his parents let him out of the house wearing that?
Akihiko, blank as always, looks down at his clothes, looking at his notebook briefly, as well, before looking back at you. “Clothes.” He says simple, which pisses you off, and that’s not good during a summer day like this. You jump up, pointing an accusing finger at him, eyebrows drawn together furiously.
“You can’t get away with just saying that!” Outrage. “You’re wearing the same thing you wear everyday with that big stupid coat and the only thing missing is your gloves and scarf! Aren’t you hot!? It’s got to be like a million degrees or something!” But now you’re sweating even more, so hot that you might die, and you just fall to the ground in exhaustion, too weak to move anymore.
“It’s not that hot..” He responds simply. “You’re overreacting.”
That was impossible. You never overreact. That was a lie. You’ve never over reacted in your whole life. Except maybe that one time when you were little, but you were younger then, and naïve. And you didn’t know any better. But now he’s looking at you like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about and you’re exhausted and mad at him for not wearing something weather appropriate.
“I am /not/!” You protest once more, but you can’t move, the sun must be baking you alive. “I’m going home and taking a cold bath I can’t stand this anymore!” Really, it’s making you hotter just looking at Akihiko. And if he says one more thing, it’s probably going to push you over the edge. Really you can’t take this, and no, you don’t have a short temper, not at all. “Going home.” You mumble again.”
“But, Hiroki…” Akihiko put his pencil down in the grass as you whip around from where you struggled to stand.
“No, I’m fed up with this heat and your stupid clothes and I’m not overreacting!” If you were any more angry (at nothing at all, really. The heat, mostly.) then surely your face would turn red like a thermometer.
“Okay, Hiroki. See you tomorrow.” He says it quietly, not angry at all, and if you didn’t like him so much you’d have already been pushed over the edge.
Pairing: Usami Akihiko/Kamijou Hiroki
Prompt: Table 6, Boiling Point
It’s the summer, and the summer means that it’s hot, and sometimes maybe a little unbearable. It’s the sort of hot were it’s simply humid, and dry, and it makes you sticky with sweat and too lazy to move. Just lay ing the grass all day and watch the clouds pass overhead, the sun filtering through the leaves of looming trees and freckling the soft ground. The air is stagnant, and unsettling. Winter is much better. With the cold, and the snow, and there’s no way to be too hot or cold, because you can just build up or take off layers of clothes depending. But in the summer, even if you’re in a tank top and shorts, sandals off to the side because your feet are too hot, laying flat and spread, because if you don’t your skin starts to stick together uncomfortably. But that’s when he sits down next to you, against that big tree, and he’s holding his notebook and pencil, looking at you. You drag your head upwards, grass irritating your scalp, and you glare at him. Glare until his eyes show a tiny bit of emotion and ask why you’re looking at him.
Why? It’s an echo in your mind. It might be because of the little attraction you’ve always had on the silver-haired boy, over the years and years of coming to this one spot and doing absolutely nothing but homework and watching him write and getting to read it all later. Any other day, that would probably be the case, but today, on this hot summer afternoon that you would kill if it were to be manifested into a person, it was because of what he’s wearing. The same goddamn thing he always wears, but just a little less. A coat, and shorts, and tennis shoes. You’re glaring and wondering if he’s an alien who can stand all this heat, or is just cold all the time but owns no actual pants that are for casual wear. (you imagine, with how rich he is, having a suit or something)
“What are you wearing?” It slips from your mouth with a lot more sarcasm than you meant it to, but that’s a good thing, because he deserves it. What with wearing something like that, he should be punched or something. How did his parents let him out of the house wearing that?
Akihiko, blank as always, looks down at his clothes, looking at his notebook briefly, as well, before looking back at you. “Clothes.” He says simple, which pisses you off, and that’s not good during a summer day like this. You jump up, pointing an accusing finger at him, eyebrows drawn together furiously.
“You can’t get away with just saying that!” Outrage. “You’re wearing the same thing you wear everyday with that big stupid coat and the only thing missing is your gloves and scarf! Aren’t you hot!? It’s got to be like a million degrees or something!” But now you’re sweating even more, so hot that you might die, and you just fall to the ground in exhaustion, too weak to move anymore.
“It’s not that hot..” He responds simply. “You’re overreacting.”
That was impossible. You never overreact. That was a lie. You’ve never over reacted in your whole life. Except maybe that one time when you were little, but you were younger then, and naïve. And you didn’t know any better. But now he’s looking at you like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about and you’re exhausted and mad at him for not wearing something weather appropriate.
“I am /not/!” You protest once more, but you can’t move, the sun must be baking you alive. “I’m going home and taking a cold bath I can’t stand this anymore!” Really, it’s making you hotter just looking at Akihiko. And if he says one more thing, it’s probably going to push you over the edge. Really you can’t take this, and no, you don’t have a short temper, not at all. “Going home.” You mumble again.”
“But, Hiroki…” Akihiko put his pencil down in the grass as you whip around from where you struggled to stand.
“No, I’m fed up with this heat and your stupid clothes and I’m not overreacting!” If you were any more angry (at nothing at all, really. The heat, mostly.) then surely your face would turn red like a thermometer.
“Okay, Hiroki. See you tomorrow.” He says it quietly, not angry at all, and if you didn’t like him so much you’d have already been pushed over the edge.